The Deal
by JanetD
Summary: Burton makes a deal to keep Nick out of jail.


**Title: ** The Deal (1/1)  
**Date Written:** 5/22/02  
**Author: **JanetD  
**Rating:** PG (mild language)  
**Summary:** Burton makes a deal to keep Nick out of jail.  
**Author's Notes:** 1) This story was inspired by the episode The Beginning. If you haven't seen this episode it could be considered a spoiler. 2) This story is a follow-on to my earlier piece , but stands completely on it's own. 3) In writing this story, I had to decide whether or not to address the fact that Nick did not turn in his dealer when seeking to make a plea bargain with the D.A.. This is something I have never been able to understand myself. Since I couldn't come up with a good way to explain it, I've just ignored it.   
**Disclaimer:** This is a work of fiction. The characters in this story are borrowed from the TV show "The Guardian". No money is being made from this story. Any resemblance of a character in this story to any real person living or dead is purely coincidental. Likewise, any resemblance between an organization depicted in this story and any such actual organization is purely coincidental.  
  
  
December 2000  
  
It was a chilly winter day in Pittsburgh. The temperature was in the low twenties, and there had been a brisk wind blowing all morning. Attorney Nick Fallin walked through the doors of Fallin & Associates, briefcase in hand, the collar of his overcoat turned up to help ward off the chill. His cheeks, nose, and ears were red from the cold. He headed to his office. A few people glanced his way as he passed, but he was no longer subject to the covert stares that had followed in the wake of his arrest for drug possession. That had been nearly six weeks ago now, but the horror of the thing was still fresh in his mind: the police busting into his apartment, dragging him and his guests out the door, the humiliation of his booking, and the oh-so-painful call to his father. God! That had been worse than spending the night in lock-up. He'd barely been able to force himself to make the call. But in the end he'd had no real choice. His father was the best one to help him out in that situation. The only thing that had lessened the agony of that phone call was the fact that he was still high from the coke he'd taken at the party. As he shook his head at his own folly, Nick found himself thinking cynically, Think God for small favors. As he'd expected, his father had taken charge--getting him a lawyer (Michael Boyd--the top drug attorney in the city), posting his bail, driving him home after he was released. His father had been extremely pissed, but his primary focus had been getting his son out of the mess he had gotten himself into.   
  
Nick walked into his office. He placed his briefcase on his desk, and then removed his gloves. Glancing out the window, he took off his topcoat, and hung it on his coat stand. As he took a seat behind his desk, he began to frown. His court date was set for January 20th. So far, Boyd had not been able to come to an agreement with the D.A. that would get Nick's charges reduced. The D.A.'s office had recently adopted a new get tough policy for drug offenses, cracking down exceptionally hard on people hosting parties where the drugs flowed freely. Unfortunately, Nick fell into this category, and the D.A. didn't seem inclined to cut him any slack. Nick was worried, but so far his lawyer was still telling him they'd get something worked out. The only good think about the whole situation, Nick thought, was that he seemed to be the only one unable to work out a deal. All the guests at his party that had been arrested had been able to plead to misdemeanors with no jail time. This included his girlfriend Marlene, and he was very grateful for that. She was a nice girl. He had hated to see her go through any of this, but at least she'd gotten off with only a year's probation and 100 hours of community service. Still, she hadn't felt too kindly to him after the arrest, and they weren't seeing each other any more. Not that it had been any sort of serious thing, but they had dated for a couple months, and Nick regretted that it had ended the way it did.   
  
Finally, with a heavy sigh, Nick picked up the papers in front of him, and pulled his thoughts away from his legal problems. He had a lot of work to do.  
  
---+---  
  
Burton Fallin's assistant Sheila opened his office door, and ushered in attorney Michael Boyd. Boyd was a man who carried himself with a confident air. Handsome, with dark features, he appeared to be in his late thirties. He was very well dressed.   
  
Burton walked around from behind his desk, and greeted Boyd with an outstretched hand.  
  
Good to see you, Mike, Burton said.   
  
You too, Burton, Boyd replied, as he shook the older man's hand.  
  
Have, have a seat, Burton said, gesturing to a chair in front of his desk, as he returned to his own place behind it. You wanted to see me? he asked with interest.  
  
Boyd nodded. I did. Things are not looking good for Nick's case. The D.A. is refusing to play ball. Right now, it looks like they're going to stick with the charges for distribution of an illegal narcotic. They'll be asking the judge for five years.  
  
The words practically exploded from Burton's mouth. You told me you'd be able to get the charges reduced to a misdemeanor with no jail time.  
  
I know. And I thought I could. But the D.A.'s office seems to be determined to make an example out of Nick. Herb Connelly is not giving any ground at all. Frankly, he seems to be taking joy in prosecuting your son to the full extent of the law.  
  
Burton ran a hand over his head, and shot a worried look at Boyd. What can we do?  
  
Boyd seemed to hesitate for a moment, then said, It's time to call in your markers. If you know anyone that has any influence with the D.A.'s office it's time to put those connections to use. Otherwise, I think Nick is looking at an extended stint in prison.  
  
Burton said with feeling, the fingers of his left hand moving up to rest on his mustache. He looked at Boyd for a moment, before shaking his head resignedly. Okay.... Thanks, Mike. I appreciate your being straight with me.  
  
Boyd nodded. He got up to leave, and Burton rose as well. He walked with Boyd to the door, and shook his hand again as he prepared to leave. Thanks again, Mike, Burton said sincerely.  
  
---+---  
  
Burton Fallin sat alone in a private sitting room at the Riverbrook Country Club. He glanced at his watch, and took another sip of his Scotch. Reaching for the pack of cigarettes on the table, he shook one free. Two discarded butts could already been seen in the ashtray in front of him. Lighting up, Burton drew in a deep drag of the soothing, nicotine-laced smoke. Just then the door opened, and Burton glanced up. State senator Nathan Caldwell walked in. He was a man of medium height who would have been considered slender in his youth. But now in his mid-fifties, he had acquired a few additional inches around the mid-section. His hair was pure white, cut short, and he was balding in front. Burton rose to his feet as Caldwell greeted him with a smile. he said enthusiastically, stepping forward, and shaking his hand. Good to see you again. How long's it been?  
  
Well, I guess it's been about two years, Nate. We worked on that project for downtown revitalization together. Remember?  
  
Oh, that's right, Caldwell confirmed, with a nod of his head. That's right.  
  
Have a seat, Burton said, resuming his own place. What can I get you to drink?  
  
Whiskey, neat.  
  
Burton pressed a buzzer, and in a moment an attractive young woman walked in the door. Yes, Mr. Fallin? she said.  
  
Rebecca, the senator would like Whiskey, neat, and I'll take another Scotch.  
  
Certainly, sir. Is there anything else?  
  
Burton looked at Caldwell,   
  
No, no, just the drink will be fine. Thanks.  
  
With a smile, Rebecca stepped out of the room, and closed the door behind her.  
Burton took another sip of his Scotch, and the two men made small talk until the waitress returned.   
  
Here you are, she said, setting the two drinks down in front of the men.   
  
Thank you, Rebecca, Burton said.  
  
You're welcome. Are you sure I can't get you anything else?  
  
No thank you. We're, uhm, we're good.  
  
All right. Well, if you need anything else, gentlemen, just buzz. With another fleeting smile, she left the two men alone.  
  
Burton shifted in his over-stuffed chair, and Caldwell looked at him, as if waiting for him to speak first. In a moment Burton said, Nate, you know that I have a son, Nicholas.  
  
Caldwell replied. He's an associate in your law firm, I believe.  
  
That's right. Burton cleared his throat. I don't know if you're aware of it, or not, but my son...my son was arrested on a drug charge in November.  
  
A look of concern appeared on Caldwell's face. I'm sorry to hear that. That's a shame, Burton, really. I imagine it must have come as quite a shock.  
  
Yes, yes it did. Burton glanced down at his drink, and then returned his gaze to Caldwell. The thing is...the D.A. is charging him with distribution of a narcotic--a felony. Nick's attorney has been trying to get it reduced to misdemeanor possession, but the D.A.'s office isn't going for that. They seem to be trying to make some kind of example out of Nick.  
  
Hmmm. That's rough. I know how I'd feel if my son was in that position.  
  
Burton said, sitting forward in his chair. Look Nate, I know that the D.A. is a close friend of yours. I, uhm, I was hoping you could talk to him. Convince him to cut Nick some slack.  
  
Caldwell looked at Burton for a moment before replying, I suppose I might be able to do that. John might be willing to listen to reason.  
  
That would be great, Burton said, a smile breaking out on his face. I'd really appreciate it, Nate. Nick is a good kid, a little headstrong, but bright--very bright, and very talented. He doesn't deserve to go to prison--to have his whole life ruined--for making a mistake like this.   
  
Caldwell nodded his head in agreement. The look he directed at Burton turned speculative. Then he asked casually, So how are things at Fallin & Associates?  
  
Good, real good, Burton replied, sitting back in his chair, and taking another puff from his cigarette.  
  
You know, sometimes I think I should have gone into private practice rather than public service. Senator Caldwell' sounds nice, but it doesn't pay the bills. He laughed, and Burton joined in. I've been thinking lately that maybe I should have something to fall back on. You know, politics is never a sure thing. One day the voters may love you. The next day, BAM!, they turn against you, and you're out on your ass...just like that. It's a crap shoot, Burton.  
  
Burton nodded, but didn't say anything.  
  
I've been thinking that a partnership in a successful corporate practice, a practice like yours, might be something I'd want to consider down the line. He paused. What do you think, Burton?  
  
Burton hesitated, then nodded, as he replied. I think, uh...I think a man like you could be a valuable asset in a firm like mine, Nate. A valuable asset.  
  
Now it was Caldwell's turn to nod. If I were to be offered such a partnership I would want to bring my Chief of Staff along--Mitchell Lichtman. He's very bright--young and ambitious. He's been my right-hand man for the last four years. He's been extremely valuable to me, Burton, and I wouldn't want to lose him.  
  
Burton put his hand to his chin. Okay.... Well...we can always make room for another talented young attorney.  
  
Good, good. Caldwell fixed Burton with a meaningful stare as he added, Then we understand each other?  
  
Burton glanced away, and then back at Caldwell. Yeah. Yeah, we understand each other, Nate.  
  
---+---  
  
Senator Caldwell and D.A. John Goldfarb sat finishing after-dinner drinks in the study of the Senator's home. The two men and their wives had had a pleasant meal, discussing old times, and catching up with current happenings in their lives. After dinner, the men had adjourned to the study, while the women retreated to the living room.   
  
There was a pause in the two men's conversation, and then the senator broke the silence, John, I heard something very disturbing the other day.  
  
The D.A. looked up, interested.   
  
I heard that a bright young man, an asset to this community, is in danger of having his future destroyed by your office.  
  
What the hell are you talking about, Nate? Goldfarb asked.  
  
I'm talking about Nicholas Fallin. I understand that this is his first offense, that he wants to work out a plea bargain, but your folks won't budge.  
  
Drawing out the single syllable, Goldfarb said,   
  
Listen to me, John. What's the sense in locking up a productive solid citizen like Nick Fallin--a young man with his whole life ahead of him--while you let the no-account, drug-heads of this city go free with a slap on the hand. Is that justice?  
  
He broke the law, Nate, Goldfarb said firmly. He was hosting a coke party in his apartment. Does that sound like a solid citizen to you?  
  
Come on, John, Caldwell wheedled. Lots of worthy young people have gotten mixed up with drugs, you know that as well as I do. Not that I approve, of course. You know I don't. And you also know that I'm the first to back the anti-drug bills that come before the Senate. But if you throw the book at Nick Fallin, that's it for him. He's done. You will have wrecked what could have been a very promising career for an otherwise upstanding young man. Do you really want to do that, John? What if it was one of your sons--Samuel or Larry? How would you feel then?  
  
The D.A. directed a long look at his friend, and then let out a heavy sigh. Okay, okay. We'll back off, let Fallin make a deal. But this better be the last we see of him, Nate. If there's a next time, I'll make Nicholas Fallin wish he'd never been born. Count on it.  
  
Caldwell nodded, stood, and reached for his friend's glass. he asked.  
  
---+---  
  
Nick Fallin picked up his office phone on the first ring.   
  
Mr. Fallin, Michael Boyd is on the line for you.  
  
Put him through. Nick ran one hand down the back of his head, awaiting the sound of his lawyer's voice with apprehension. The last time he'd talked to Boyd things were not looking good. He feared that Boyd might be calling to deliver more bad news. Although, he reassured himself, if that was the case it seemed likely he would have done it in person, not over the phone.   
  
Finally Boyd came on the line. he said heartily. I've got great news. Connelly has agreed to accept your plea to misdemeanor drug possession. He'll recommend three years probation, a $10,000 fine, and 1500 hours of community service.  
  
1500 hours? Nick said, dismayed. That many?  
  
Nick, Nick, Boyd said with obvious exasperation, believe me, this is a gift. Connelly was ready to lock you up and throw away the key. This is a great offer, and if I were you, I'd jump at it before he changes his mind.  
  
Of course, of course, Nick said with chagrin. You're right. I, I accept.  
  
Good. We'll get all the paperwork in order, and then I'll call you. Okay?  
  
Sure, yeah sure, and...thanks.  
  
You're welcome. Talk to you later, Nick.  
  
  
  
As Nick hung up the phone the full impact of what Boyd had said hit him. He wasn't going to jail. He would have to do community service and three years probation, but he wasn't going to jail! A wave of relief swept over him, and a broad smile broke out on his face. He stood up. He had to tell his dad the news.  
  
Burton Fallin, reading glasses perched on his nose, was reviewing a freshly-prepared brief when a knock came at his office door. Barely before he could get out the words, come in, his son strode into the room. Burton noticed that there was a smile on Nick's face (a rare occurrence, as he knew only too well), and he smiled unconsciously in return.  
  
Nick said, somewhat breathless. Dad, Boyd just called. The D.A. has agreed to reduce the charges to a misdemeanor. I'll get probation and community service, but no jail time.  
  
Burton's smile broadened, and he stood up. That's great, son! That's great. What, what are the particulars?  
  
Three years probation, 1500 hours of community service, and a $10,000 fine.  
  
Burton nodded slowly as he mulled this over. Well, that's not too bad. It could have been worse.... He looked at Nick again, and then said sincerely, That's wonderful, Nicholas. I'm really glad to hear it. Really glad, son.  
  
Nick nodded, and glanced around his father's office, then back to Burton. After a moment he said, Well...guess, guess I'd better get back to work.  
  
Okay. I'll talk to you later Nick.  
  
Nick nodded again, and headed for the door, glancing back once at his father as he walked out.  
  
Burton stood a moment staring at the closed door. Then sat down heavily. Well, it looks like it worked, he found himself thinking. Caldwell must have come through.... Thank God! He leaned back in his chair, and ran one hand over the top of his head, as he contemplated the deal he had made with the senator. It had been a risk. Was still a risk, he corrected himself. If it came to light that he'd promised Caldwell a partnership in exchange for his exerting influence with the D.A..... But it had kept his son out of prison. It had kept Nick's career from being flushed down the toilet. That was the important thing. That was all that really mattered.   
  
Burton swiveled his chair to the right, and sat gazing out the window for a few moments. No. No, he didn't regret what he'd done. Not one bit. Not...one...bit.  
  
The End  
  



End file.
